


Spirit Songs

by MadokaFan1234



Category: Sing (2016)
Genre: But He's Sad, Everyone is Dead, but noo, except buster, i could just wait until friday, i just got my account set up, i just watched moral orel, its 10pm and I'm doin this, when is he not sad, woohoo I finally got an ao3 account
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:16:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadokaFan1234/pseuds/MadokaFan1234
Summary: AU where everyone in Sing (except Buster) has died. Some by natural causes, others by fate.These are their chapters.





	1. The Spirit of Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rabbit-Kinder](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rabbit-Kinder), [sadmondays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadmondays/gifts), [KotomiChi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KotomiChi/gifts).



> YOOOHOOO I FINALLY GOT TIME TO UPLOAD IT

It was a rush. 

Johnny was, once again, stuck with the position of getaway driver. The crime was just like usual; robbing a bank. After the last crime nearly cutting short, Johnny had kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the guard. 

His father had been criticizing him about how he 'should stay on the lookout' and to 'stop singin' while a crime goes on'. Johnny had been a singer at heart, but to keep himself safe, stayed under his father's job. If he ever underwent his dream, he could be on the streets or under police patrol. 

If he kept up crime, he'd be betraying himself. But if he sang, he'd be betraying his father. 

So, as much as he hated it, he participated in his dad's felonies. And now he's sitting in a cash piled car under his father's barking orders. 

The team was driving far ahead from the police, but still needed to throw them off.

"Speed up, Johnny!" His father directed. Without thinking, Johnny put the pedal to the floor, gaining speed. 

But as he drove downtown, he saw something in the distance. Two women in the middle of the road. Something in his mind commanded him, and he started to slow down.

"What'ar you doin?!" He heard his father yell. 

"Dad, there's someone in the middle of the road!"

"Then HONK! WE'RE ON A RUNAWAY!" His father's orders started overriding his mind. 

"Can't we try to hide in an alley?" Johnny frantically tried to reason with his father. But his words were drowned out by the police sirens growing closer. 

"Johnny, speed up!"

"Dad-!"

"SPEED UP!" His father launched to the wheel in frenetics, causing to car to swerve off the road. 

Johnny remembered the traumatized look of the woman as the car crashed into the building.

Then everything went dark.


	2. The Spirit of Discomfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeheheh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yohoho another one in the barrel

She didn’t know what was coming.

Meena’s mother had asked her repeatedly all week to go to the theatre. Her response was always the same, a small, timid ‘no’. Of course, her mother would accept her feelings, but would always try again the next day.

She knows what her mother wants. She wants to go to the theatre. On and on again her mother went about her singing voice. 

And so one day, they actually went. Maybe Meena wanted her mother to stop talking about it, maybe she wanted to go herself, but they went.

The road was riddled with traffic, but they scooted their way downtown to see the low, practically abandoned Moon Theatre. 

That was, until, she saw the car driving down.

Meena and her mother were just crossing a road, the streets had been barren (a rare surprise) when she heard something speeding up. Looking around, she tried to find the source, and then she saw it. The car going at breakneck speed going right for them. 

Right for her mother.

“Mom, look out!” she immediately yelled out, losing all senses except the thought of her mother. She pushed her out of the way, with the car only mere inches away from them. The records show she took the blows. 

And the last thing she remembered was facing up at the low Moon Theatre as life faded from her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah it's short 
> 
> I may edit these in the future
> 
> but just you wait for the next three...


	3. The Spirit of Stubborness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now Mike is in on the party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yehehhheh

Quick and painless.

Mike was short, but he was fast. He had ran all the way from the club to the end of town. He took shortcuts through alleyways, sewers, and the occasional hitch on the back of a car. But it wasn’t enough, the bears were still on his tail. 

He was a cheat and he knew it, but he never thought he would be hunted down. He just slipped a few cards in his pocket, that’s all! He was running out of money and he and his girl had to eat. Resorting to cheating was only a tactic. A tactic to live. His only tactic now was his way around town.

“I swear to god,” he mumbled as he zoomed down a street. He frantically looked down, and to his luck, he didn’t see a single weapon! He immediately flew into the back of the wall, gaining his breath. He stayed silent, unmoving, hoping to throw off his hunters’ path. For a moment, he thought everything was going to be alright. He’d get in contact with Diana, the two would fly out to New Jersey with a thousand dollars and live happily ever after. 

But the thought was quick. And with the sound of a gunshot, it vanished in a heartbeat. 

Mike looked around, trying to find a way to escape. What he realized was that he hit a dead end--nowhere to go but back where he came. And that was where they were standing, he knew it.

His thoughts had become a clustered array, trying to find a way out, hoping to reason, and a million other tactics scurried his mind. Only once in awhile they were gone, and that was with the sound of an ear-shattering gunshot. 

And then he felt it. 

His predator stood behind him, pistol in hand. Mike turned around, shaking. 

“H-hey,” he stuttered. “Maybe we can try to reason this out?”

The last thing he remembers seeing was the crease in annoyance on the gambler’s face. 

And as he laid on the floor, bleeding out to death, he recalled one final name. The one who he gave his life to. 

Diana…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the record shows
> 
> he took the blows


	4. The Spirit of Intimidation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally a long one

She didn’t deserve it.

Ash had spent eight months putting up with Lance’s antics. She cleaned up his messes, tuned his guitar, bought new strings, and told him everything would be alright after a failed audition. And all she got in return was “just stay backup.”

Ash loved Lance. Her parents had berated her for moving out once she graduated, but she drowned out their scolds with the blasting sound of her and Lance’s music. She always held onto the thought that one day, they would be working in a high-budget studio, with millions of fans crawling at their feet. She was willing to take Lance’s criticism and occasional bruises, because this was love.

It started when she was walking home from the thrift shop. “Another fail…” she sighed, remembering earlier events. “Maybe Lance’ll what I got,” she thought out loud, strumming the strings of the new guitar she got him. 

When she got to her apartment she heard him, like always. Except this time, it wasn’t just him. She heard another feminine voice from behind the door. Pressing her ear against the wood, she heard more sounds--giggling, teasing, the sound of playful banter. And then the ending point--an audible smooch.

Ash brushed her hand on the doorknob cautiously, hoping that all of this was just in her head. It had to be, Lance loved her! 

Right?

Ash squeezed the doorknob, the bruises on her palm aching. She closed her eyes, hoping that the noises would stop. But the wouldn’t. Minutes passed by with her listening to her boyfriend possibly cheat on her. Eventually, she took a deep breath, and opened the door.

She entered her home to the sight of her worst fear. Lance was on the couch, strumming his guitar and singing with another woman. The two smiled lovingly at each other before recognizing Ash in the doorway, staring with a mixture of feelings. Hate...sadness...and fear.

Lance looked at his terrified girlfriend in the doorway and faced the other woman again.

“Lance, who is this?” she asked, innocently. 

“It’s okay babe, I’ll take care of her…” Lance assured. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Becky.”

With that, the girl took her sunglasses, waved blissfully to Lance while eyeing Ash with a disturbed expression, and left the premises.

The only sound in the building came from the door closing. 

“Why did you do this?” Ash whispered, lip quavering. “Why did you do this? Lance, I trusted you!” she repeated her words, on the brink of tears.

Lance stood up, holding his arms in defense. “Hey, we were just singing together! It wasn’t like we were-”

“Kissing?” Ash interrupted her boyfriend’s defenses. “I heard you. You and her. Outside.”

“Wait, you eavesdropped on us?” Lance remarked. 

“Don’t start, you were the one who cheated,” Ash said before he could begin. She took a sigh, trying to steady her breath. “Lance, why are you rehearsing with her? We’re a duo!”

“I dunno, babe…” Lance began, shaking his head. “You’re just becoming a little...greedy recently…”

“Greedy….greedy?” Ash muttered his words, as if trying to hold on to them. “I have done everything I can to make sure you were happy!”

“Oh, what, like hogging the spotlight?” 

“Hogging the spotlight? No, Lance….like booking our gigs, cleaning your mess, buying you new strings?” Recollecting all her past memories, Ash started 

“And what has that lead to? I’m still stuck in this rundown apartment ‘cause no one likes us!” Lance ignored her words and ranted on, walking closer to his roommate. 

“I like you, Lance! That’s why I helped you with your music! I try to do everything to make you happy, and what has that amounted to? You cheating on me!” Ash tried to reason with her annoyed boyfriend, but to no avail. 

“Well, at least Becky cares about what I do!” With that, Lance angrily drew his palm to Ash’s face, a large smack covering her face. 

At the sound of the slash, Ash had closed her mouth, quiet as can be. Only her breaths were audible. She brought her hand up to her face, feeling the new wound on her face. Wincing, she looked at her roommate, who bared an expression of disgust. Not at his actions, not at himself, but at her inability to ‘reason’ with him.

Ash’s mind was empty with reasoning. All that was left in her mind was a clipshow of her lover’s past actions. Unfair criticism towards her performance, small mumbles in response to her presents, the small yet painful injuries he had bestowed upon her.

And now this. He, the dirty, rotten cheater, stood above her, stating that all she did--her practice, her sacrifices, and her takings--has somehow not amounted to her ‘caring for him’.

She started stood still.

“Babe, come on,” Lance pleaded for her to forgive him, hoping she wouldn’t tell anyone about him. “I’m sorry,” he led into a hug, hoping that his attempts to apologize were enough to quiet her.

“Get off of me,” Ash commanded, shoving him back. “I’m moving out…” she whispered, deflated. She went to her room to pack up her things.

Lance could hear her whispers. Things started clicking in his mind. Where would she go? Who would she stay with? Would she tell them about him? 

What if she told the police?

No, no she wouldn’t..but just in case…

Lance grabbed the back of Ash’s shirt as she walked by him. “Hey!” Ash yelped, turning angrily to her ex. Lance didn’t respond, but rather tugged on her shirt. Hard.

“Let go of me!” Ash ordered, trying to get out of his grip.

“Babe…” Lance said, placing a hand on her waist. Ash continued to struggle out. “You aren’t going to tell the police, are you?”

Ash looked into his eyes. She knew what was going on. “And what if I do?” she questioned.

Lance immediately dragged her into another room. Ash tried to scream in help, but they were drowned out as they entered.

She didn’t deserve any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have an alternate ending to this if anyone wants to see put it in the comments below and smASH THE MOTHERFUCKIN LIKE BUTTON


	5. The Spirit of Forgiveness (and Bliss)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mom ghost

She didn't even feel it.

"Okay, okay," Rosita deeply sighed, looking into her child's eyes. "I'll be upstairs in a moment, Casper." She briefly kissed the young child's forehead as he ran upstairs to join the rest of his siblings. Rosita watched as he went to sleep. 

Sleep...sleep...sleep. 

She snapped back up before she could pass out on top of the lamp stand. "Come on Rosita, stay awake," she whispered to herself, yawning mid-sentence. She walked over to the kitchen to do the dishes when the phone rang. 

"Hello?" She asked groggily. "Oh, hi, Ms. Oriole," she responded to her children's teacher. She grabbed the phone off the rack and made her way to the sink.

"Uh huh..uh huh," Rosita listened to her words, soon stumbling into mumbles as her tiredness grew. She only caught herself when she realized she was about to drop a porcelain mug. "Oh, what?" The teacher had asked if she was feeling alright. "Oh, yes, Ms. Oriole. I'm just a little...stressed."

With a heavy sigh, she put the mug down and stopped washing the dishes for a moment. She listened to the teacher talk about remedies and a therapist, growing more bored at every suggestion. "Okay, well you know what?" Rosita interrupted, a bit of annoyance in her voice. "Maybe I don't have time to make tea or find and hire a therapist..." 

The recipient tried to continue on, but Rosita interrupted her again. "No, I don't have time! Like, literally don't have time! I have 25 children, Helen. 25 CHILDREN!" she ranted, her tone growing.

"Rosita, are you alright?" Norman tiredly called from the other room.

"Yes, honey," Rosita sighed. She only heard a small 'ok' before she continued her conversation. "Ms. Oriole, I understand what you're saying, but right now I don't have the time," she whispered into the phone."I have a beautiful family and a lot of work..."

But still, the woman continued on with the mental health guides and cough drops. Rosita tried to continue the dishes so she could stay awake. But she found herself blinking away sleep and stress as she listened to the woman on the phone.

And, as if in an instance, it happened.

Rosita dozed off into slumber, the electronic device slipping off her shoulder. The phone dropped into the the sink, electrocuting the woman in an instant.

But still, she did not feel anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should I add an epilogue at the end for rosita meeting gunter or


	6. I Want To Put On A Show/The Legacy of Moon Theatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buster wants to put on a show, but his theatre is too dangerous for anyone to want to join production.

“Oh come, Eddie!” Buster ran over to his friend. Eddie tried to walk faster away from the theatre, knowing the guy’s luck, but Buster somehow caught up. “Can’t you just ask your parents for a little bit of a loan?”

Eddie rolled his eyes at his begging, stepping back slowly. “Buster, you haven’t put on a successful show for five years!” he argued, hoping his friend would step back. “How do you expect my parents to react when I say I want to help you--the man that killed 8 guys?”

“Hey--I technically didn’t kill them,” Buster retorted. “They died of natural causes.”

“A sandbag is a natural cause?”

“Either way,” Buster continued. “I want to put on a show, and I swear that no one will die!” The small man leaned on a nearby tree in confidence, smirking. The tree immediately snapped in half, falling into the middle of the road where a nearby car swerved by. Buster kept on smiling. “My statement still stands.”

Eddie looked at the tree in a bit of dull surprise. “Right…” and with that, he continued onward to his home, away from the danger. 

“Eddie!” Buster huffed, running up to him. “We’ve been friends since high school! You’ve always trusted me!” He tried to reason with Eddie more. He wouldn’t give up, the little man. He wanted something--so he was going to get it.

“PLEASE!” he scattered down to his friend’s shoe, gripping it with all his might. Surprisingly, he was pretty strong for a man his height, as he was able to draw the attention of Eddie back.

“What are you doing now?” He asked, looking around to make sure no one was looking at them. And luckily, only the two were there, so he wouldn’t have to bask in the embarrassment as a midget clung to his shoe like a toddler. 

“Begging,” Buster replied, now oddly calm. Eddie tried to shake Buster off of his foot so he could just walk back home, and although the man had strength, Eddie was able to force him off of his foot and tried to run home.

“Eddie!” he called out for his friend again, who this time, didn’t take it. He just kept on running home. Buster had tried to catch speed, but wasted all of his energy before. “Okay, how about this?” he yelled towards the running man. “You come tomorrow, I show that I can be safe with a loan, and you convince your dad to pay me!”

To his surprise, Eddie actually stopped and turned around to the crazy man. A few minutes had passed, with Buster nodding in anticipation, hoping he would accept. And to add onto another surprise, Eddie eventually gave a solemn nod, signaling that he agreed to his statement. He immediately turned to run back home. 

Buster punched the air and ran back to the theatre to prepare his visit.

He would never know what would await him the next day...

\---

The Moon Theatre had not been a successful business for sometime now. Mostly because a majority of plays they had put out were...not very good.

And not in the sense that the script was awful or that the acting was as wooden as the stage (though that was a huge factor), but it came from the sense that in every play Buster Moon tried to put on, someone would die. Not in that their career died or anything--in that they straight were dead. From malfunctions, to misunderstandings, to the accidental fling of a cutting saw, at least one person would die in a production.

5 years--8 deaths. Surprisingly, no one would sue Mr. Moon, since most of the deaths weren’t directly extended to him. But still, soon no one in the city would step up to the theatre, in fear of what would happen.

And so the legend stands that Moon Theatre will always end up with the death of someone, whether it’s the lead, or backstage.

So no one had been there for five years.


	7. First Haunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to begin the spooks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this one is looooooooooooong

Buster woke up early in the morning, ready to set up his own mini-show for Eddie. He was convinced that it would go off without a hitch--sure, he had a few misses here and there, and yeah, some people tended to die in his productions (or at the least, be morally wounded), but he was sure today would be a hit! He set up safety precautions all around the theatre and made sure all of the equipment he had was downstage, so it wouldn’t fall.

He even ordered a few new props from the pawn shop! There were few things that the showrunner could afford, but he got a discount on most of them (which was because the shop owner just wanted him to leave…). Most of the items were a miscellaneous clutter, but the things that seemed interesting consisted of a piano, a guitar, and an old iPod. He also cleaned up his theatre a bit and found a few, tiny macaroni bracelets and stashed them away, thinking about maybe remaking it into a gift for Eddie.

He even got a few new clothes! Well, he only got a red hat and leather jacket (along with a yellow jumpsuit, waaay too big for him), but it was good enough! For now, he wore his regular blue tuxedo--he needed to impress Eddie, after all.

But then he started setting up the performance. It had started with the microphones. 

“Okay, there we go,” Buster hummed to himself as he raised a mic up on a pedestal. It trampled over off its stand immediately. “Haha, there must be a little wind in here,” he laughed to himself, not thinking too much of it. When he tried to put the mic back on, it fell off again, rolling to the edge of the stage. “Ai, ai, ai!” Buster ran over to catch the mic before it fell off. “We can’t be losing you, now can we?” he cooed over the mic like it was his child. He tried it back on again--third time’s the charm-- and this time, instead of just falling over, it flew across the auditorium, into the wall!

“NO!” Buster sprinted to the microphone, hoping it wasn’t damage. Unfortunately, it was dented in its backside, rendering it useless. “Hehe,” Buster chuckled to himself, wearing off the pain. “Clumsy me!”

“IT’S A GHOST; DO YOU HAVE THE IQ OF A CACTUS?!” 

As Buster touched the microphone, this voice boomed into his ear, knocking him back. Terrified, he looked back and forth, left and right, up and down. Silence. No one was there. 

“Huh,” he said, fear grazing off of him. “Must be my imagination!” he pushed away all those thoughts as he jumped up, kicked the microphone behind a chair, and went back to the stage to set up a new one. 

He needed this show to go on perfectly. Spooky mics weren’t gonna stop that.

Five rolls of duct tape later, the mics were all set on stage. Next up was the piano. Running backstage, he pushed the piano onto center stage. Thinking if it was in the right position or not, he stepped back to see the design so far. “Good, good,” he whispered to himself, turning around to look at the lights next.

“What would I do without your smart mouth?”

Buster turned around at the sound of the singing voice. But like last time, nothing. The piano was perfectly in shape, and no one was hurt at least. He turned back to look at the lights.

“Drawing me in and you kicking me out?”

Buster turned again, but still, no one was there. Weird. A sudden thought came into his head; could it be a ghost? It vanished completely as he thought more about the lights. He didn’t have time to think about scary campfire stories--not right now. But looking past the haunted piano, however, he did notice that the song had a few sour notes. “Ah,” Buster muttered. “Well, it looks like this ‘ghost’ needs to practice a bit more…”

Instead of a soothing, melodic voice, this time it was the bang of cluttered piano keys. The manager jolted in surprise at the noise, looking at the piano very closely this time. He made sure no one would try to sneak on it and play more pranks. After examining it for five minutes, he decided to get back to his work. But this time, he didn’t turn around. 

“I’m watching you,” he made a small peace sign, bringing it up to his eyes, then to the piano. And he was correct--he was watching this piano long and hard. 

So long that he didn’t notice when he fell off the stage.

Next up was the stage. He couldn’t get a good stagehand at the moment, so Buster had to teach himself about the lights and the music from backstage. He always watched the guys do this--both when he was young and when he produced plays himself. So who better to do this than him?

Like always, it was good and natural the first time around. Buster looked around to make sure nothing was ‘haunted’ before he came back to the stage set, He played around with the lights for a few minutes, changing the brightness and the color. But something odd happened when he changed it a few times.

“Okay, first pink…” he pressed a button and the stage was a beautiful shade of rose.

“I stay up too late!”

Like before, a voice raised is volume at an action. Buster looked around him--and as always--he was all alone in his theatre. Buster flipped the switch, turning the stage from pink to blue. 

“Well I heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pressed the Lord...”

Now the booming lyrics of “Hallelujah” echoed throughout the stage. What was happening? Buster quickly flicked the button again, like a button on a TV remote, and the stage turned from a humble baby blue to a shimmering, brightened gold.

“RAH RAH, AH-AH-AH!!!”

Buster flew his hands to his ears as the loud symphony of “Bad Romance” boomed loudly throughout the stage, nearly blowing him away. The volume of the sudden sound seemed to be blowing everything off, as he saw auditorium chairs fly over his head. He struggled to reach the button to adjust color, pressing it so everything would turn back to normal. 

Everything turned back, gravity bringing Buster and whatever items flew up onto the floor once again. Buster hyperventilated, panicking a bit inside. Half of him panicked about the hauntings that were occurring, the other about the mess the most recent one had caused. 

“W-well…” he stuttered, a bit scared this time. “I-I think I’m good for now,” he assured himself so he wouldn’t lose it before Eddie came over. He went over to clean up whatever damage was made and just started to practice singing to himself in the lobby while waiting for his friend to come over. Occasionally, he glanced over his shoulder, peeked around the corner, and looked into the near rooms to make sure nothing was messed up. 

“Hi.”

Buster yelped and turned to face whoever was behind him, much to Eddie’s disdain. He took in Eddie’s disturbed expression for a moment before realizing what happened.

“Oh, Eddie!” Buster said, voice cracking. He brushed himself off, trying to look “professional”. “Welcome to mi casa!” He tried to lighten the mood with a bit of snappy language, directing his attention to the theatre.

~~~

He led Eddie into the auditorium. He was hoping he was making a good impression. “So,” he began, trying to make small talk. “How are you?”

“I’m fine!” Eddie perked up, oddly enough. Turning around, Buster noticed that Eddie wore an odd grin on his face, that wasn’t seen very often. But he considered it for only a few seconds, as his expression turned back to a stoic one. 

“Okay, nice to hear that!” Buster replied, keeping his quirky tone. He pointed his hand to an aisle. “You can sit there--right in the middle!”

Eddie nodded without a word, slipping into the row. Buster skipped to the stage, getting ready to perform. “I am Buster Moon, owner of the Moon Theatre, and I will be performing Defying Gravity…” he stanced. 

He heard Eddie scoff in his seat, putting on an expression of annoyance. “Get on with the show already!” he called from where he sat.

Weird. Really weird. Buster looked in confusion at his friend’s out-of-character outburst (and a bit of disappointment at his unsupportiveness), but inhaled and began to sing.

“Something has changed within me--something is not the same..”

It started off pretty well with the first verse. As he sung, he stood still, taking and noticing all around him. He looked at his only audience member, his expression softening over time. A twinge of hope filled the performer’s eyes. Maybe he could be able to convince him after all.

And then he started the choreography.

“I think I’ll try….defying…..gravity!” he bursted into small steps, twirling around from stage right to left with an expression of wonder that his character he was playing had. He ran up to the piano, but instead of playing it, he jumped on top of it. 

“And you can’t bring me down!” as he boomed the next lyric out, he noticed that Eddie’s expression of irritability wore off. But now, it was replaced with a different face. A face of...discomfort? Eddie was obviously looking uncomfortable as he performed, looking away from him, playing with his thumbs, sweating a bit…

But it was also mixed with...indecisiveness? It seemed that he was pondering whether to listen more to this performance or just run away now. And either way, it looked like he was scared of being rude. Luckily, he continued listening in, which was good, since Buster kept on singing even after he read into his expressions.

The next few verses went off splendidly. Buster followed the steps he set up and nothing--absolutely nothing--malfunctioned. Everything stayed in place, the lights he set in a timed matter went off when he needed them to, and he was able to perform as if he was still sixteen.

But then something else came. Like before...with the stubbornness, the bliss, the uncomfort, and the indecisiveness. This time, it lingered on more. During his performance, Buster could feel this aura for quite some time. Looking at Eddie, he noticed that he bared an expression. Just that--an expression. He didn’t know what it was, but it bothered him. And distracted him.

He looked at Eddie some more, drawn in by the odd feeling that was invoked by him. And at last, he knew what it was. 

It was the glare of raw emotion when Buster nearly tipped off the stage as he sung his climax.

“Is ever gonna bring...meeeee…...dOWn!”

His voice cracked on the last line. 

Buster was supposed to sing this song in confidence. It was supposed to be the represented line that shows he was able to take care of his theatre. The line was supposed to mean strength, hope, ability to push past any negativity.

Buster wasn’t like that at the moment. What he was feeling as he glanced in Eddie’s direction was intimidated.

It got to him, which made him flub up his performance.

The lights soon went up, bringing the stage to its default appearance. Buster stood on the stage some more, catching his breath since he lost most of it performing. For a moment, he hoped that the voice crack didn’t mean anything. That it was just a small flaw in an otherwise great performance. That Eddie would put it past him and tell him that he would try to reason with his parents to give him a loan.

The expression of boredom-mixed apathy on his face did not seem to sell it. With a sigh, Eddie got up from his seat, giving no words on the performance, then exited out the theatre.

“Eddie, wait!” Buster realized that he was about to lose his only source of donation. He ran to him, who was outside the lobby. “Please! Please! I can do it!” he sunk to his knees, but unlike last time, he didn’t think he could convince him. All this was was a shameful last resort. 

But for some odd reason, Eddie stopped in the doorway. Buster, still on his knees, noticed that the unimpressed man did not leave just yet. He turned his head to face the begging man. 

“I will try to see what I can do,” he told his friend, who perked in surprise. “But this show better be good…”

Buster’s face went from a weeping frown to a soulful smile. “Thank you!” he jumped up from his position in joy, watching as the man left his theatre, a glint of...forgiveness in his eye. 

In a daze, he spun around his theatre. “Thank you, ghosts!” he didn’t know who to thank for this miracle, so he looked up into the air and thanked the spirits for not haunting his performance. At least, he thought they didn’t haunt it…

“You’re welcome!” he heard a voice call from above him. Looking up, he saw a woman, pale and translucent, right in front of him, bearing a face of joy.

In a bit of fear, he looked around and saw many more see-through grins that pierced his vision. Counting them all, he realized that there wasn’t a ghost haunting his theatre. There were six.

That was when he fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buster finally died rip

**Author's Note:**

> Johnny died haha
> 
> ((ghost AU created by KotomiChi, go check them out))


End file.
